


Faltering

by duelmepharaoh (captain_indigo)



Series: Yugioh Shorts [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 09:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_indigo/pseuds/duelmepharaoh
Summary: Kaiba deals with his PTSD using Duel Monsters, and I deal with my PTSD by writing fanfiction.





	Faltering

**Author's Note:**

> Content includes verbal and physical, but no sexual abuse, in case anyone needs specifics.

He was ten years old again, and he had made a mistake. You could always feel it in the air, like a vibration, just before Gozaburo started screaming. Just because he didn't want his invention to be used for killing? It didn't matter. Predicting what would set his step-father off was an art, and thus imperfect. Everything he did was wrong, his interest in games was wrong, his ideas were wrong, his wish to make children happy was wrong, much less happiness for himself. The stack of papers flew into his face, and he flinched. He always flinched, no matter how many times this scene played out in his nightmares. He couldn't stop himself, either then or now.

     "Worthless, stupid, piece of shit!"

He realized vaguely that he was awake, but Gozaburo's voice still echoed in his ears. Held down by the sweat-soaked sheets that twisted around his body, he yanked at them frantically. No, no, he had to get free, he wasn't just going to lay there and be hit this time, he had to-

     "I'm your father. You should be grateful. You know I would never do anything that wasn't for your own good."

He heard the sheets rip as he physically tore himself free, too mired in panic to figure out how to untangle them. Panic? Yes. We're having a panic attack, his brain supplied unhelpfully. He should breathe. He tried to breathe. He couldn't breathe. Something was crushing him, he couldn't-

     "I should have known. You were never good enough to inherit this company. You'll never be smart enough for anything worthwhile. You're such a lazy child. I was ready to hand you and your brother a new life, and this is how you repay me? Not only did you ruin Kaiba Corp with your Duel Monsters obsession, you can't even beat that _loser_  in a card game. It's back to the orphanage for you, Seto. People like you could never do anything right."

Kaiba felt a whimper try to escape his throat, and ground his teeth together. He dug his hands into his hair, gripping, trying to remind himself what was real. He was alone, Gozaburo was dead, twice-over. Gods he was so cold. Why was he so cold? Why was he sweating? He saw the stack of papers flying towards his face again, or was it a fist? He couldn't tell anymore. Why was he so useless? Why wasn't he ever good enough? He kept building his company, he kept innovating, he had made his and Mokuba's dream a reality, he kept challenging Atem, he had spent his life clawing his way out of the hole his step-father had dug, and it was never enough. Maybe it would never be enough. He was so cold he couldn't feel his fingers where they burrowed into his hair.

So here he was, back again. Still garbage, still flinching away from the memories he could never quite forget. There were only two options. He would never give up while Mokuba needed him, so that was out. That meant his only choice was to keep going. Even if he was half ghost already, heart full of glass, he was better than no brother at all. Probably. So, he was going to live. Now. Shower? No, no, he couldn't get out of bed, he had to stay there with his back to the wall. The blows hurt more when you couldn't see them coming. _Shower,_ Kaiba thought, more firmly this time. He launched himself out of bed before he could keep thinking about it, and a wave of terror gripped him so hard he almost vomited. Blindly pushing himself off of the furniture for support, he somehow made it to the bathroom. Slamming the door, he snapped the deadbolt closed behind him. He flipped on the light, checking the corners of the bathroom, once, twice. No one. No one was there. The door was locked. There were no windows. He was alone. He finally managed to take a full breath, his head still spinning. He could feel the scars on his back and his arms itching and oozing blood, but when he looked down at himself there was nothing. He looked over his shoulder into the mirror. Nothing. No blood. He was clenching his teeth together so hard his jaw was starting to ache. He turned on the water, setting it as hot as he could stand. He didn't bother trying to wash, he just stood there under the stinging spray.

Maybe Gozaburo was right. Maybe he would always be stupid and worthless. But for some futures, he didn't have to be deserving. Even if everything he created was already poison to him, he could still keep doing it. There was something peaceful in working so methodically, even assuming he could never succeed in the way that he needed. He wasn't going to let that asshole's ghost disrupt the logic that kept him alive.

He could still feel someone hovering over his shoulder, but his skin wasn't so jumpy by the time he made it back to his bed. He threw on sweatpants and a t-shirt. There was no way he was going back to sleep tonight without a sleeping pill, and that felt too much like a defeat. He grabbed his briefcase from the desk, and spread out as many cards as he could fit on his bed. He fell into a soothing rhythm. Magic cards, trap cards, monster cards, all flowing together in different patterns. He had so many different types of decks in his head, and he recreated a fair number. Once he finished building one deck, he held it for a moment, and then spread out the cards and started again. He didn't stop till the gray dawn light started peering through his bedroom window. He stared at it blearily. Thank god. He carefully arranged all the cards back into their places, rebuilding his own Blue-Eyes deck as he had a hundred times. The monster regarded him sternly with its single visible eye, its teeth bared. Kaiba could feel his eyes twitching with fatigue. It was better like this. It was a lot harder to panic when he was exhausted. Carefully, he got out of bed and dressed, with only a minor twist of his stomach. That was fine. There was still a tightness behind his eyes whenever he didn't have his back to a wall, but that was also fine. He shouldn't go to work today. He had to go to work today. Sometimes he could push himself through it with no consequences. Sometimes not. He'd probably know which it was today by lunch time. The trench coat helped. The heavy fabric and metal studs added weight. The belts and tight clothes added pressure. The resting bitch-face completed his carefully crafted suit of armor. By the time he made it down to breakfast, he felt almost human again.

* * *

      "Up for a duel, Kaiba?"

Atem's face looked unbearably cheerful on the screen of Kaiba's desk phone. He had to pick today, didn't he. There was no way he could stand to end up on his back again, not right now. He'd just have to win then.

     "Of course. When and where?" His fingers were white-knuckled, gripping his desk.

* * *

He was going to lose again. The realization slid down his throat like an ice cube. No. **_No_**.

He could tell Atem was staring at him in confusion. He was taking too long. He had to draw his next card, or Atem would notice something was wrong. Kaiba wasn't sure which was worse: losing to his rival, or letting his rival see him like this. He should've said he was busy. He heard his duel disk beep, and looked up in horror to see Atem resting his hand on his deck in surrender. Oh god, he took it back. This was much, _much_ worse.

     "What the _fuck_ are you doing?" He spat. He could feel his hands going cold again. Atem stalked across the space between them, his face twisted with some indecipherable emotion. He grabbed the collar of Kaiba's coat and yanked him down till they were face-to-face. Kaiba grabbed Atem's hand, but before he could rip himself away, the other man spoke.

     " _This isn't you_. I don't know what kind of evil mood has you in its grip, but this isn't you. I will not dishonor either of us by dueling you when you're in this state. You may be an asshole, but you are also one of the most stubborn and talented duelists I know. People like you do not give up like this, no matter how many times they fail. If this is still what you desire, if you still find meaning in testing each other's limits, then I hope you remember just how much you're capable of before we duel again."

Kaiba wasn't sure he trusted himself to speak, so he settled for a curt nod. Atem scrutinized his face, looking for something, and then gave his own nod, leaving the way he came.

Worthless? Capable? Stubborn? Failure? This isn't you, Atem had said. Their words were fighting in his head, and Kaiba didn't know which side he was on anymore. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. If he still couldn't sort this out emotionally, then he might as well be practical. It was just one more choice. Which side did he choose? What was going to let him answer Atem's challenge? He snorted. That one was easy. For the moment, pretending he believed Atem and Mokuba would be a good place to start. If he was wrong, so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a Bad Day so I projected my entire flashback onto this asshole. Sorry Kaiba! I didn't edit this very much, cause it's kinda hard to read the first part too many times. Lmk if I missed any errors. Believe in the brother/rival that believes in you! Or something. There was no way I could write this without it basically turning into a Gurren Lagann reference whoops.


End file.
